


Panikos Atlas

by Panikos



Category: Divergent (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Eventual Smut, F/M, Longstory, Violence, slow burn?, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:04:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panikos/pseuds/Panikos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan just transferred to Dauntless from a three year sentence to......well that'll come out eventually. She's got serious mental problems she's trying to deal with, and Eric Coulter really isn't helping. But he's never going to just let go. He's not that kind of guy and we all know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Third jumper!” I know the voice. I’ve already heard it today. I don’t know why it sounds so familiar to me, but it does. I mean, I know it. But I didn’t get the chance to look at his face earlier, so I can’t put a face to the voice. But I know the voice. Gruff, rough but smooth.

Kyle flinches at the tone of our trainer’s voice. Kyle, who’s my current sparring partner for the day. He and I got stuck together when no one wanted to pair with us. Not a surprise on my end. He’s an inch shorter than me, and skinny as hell. I’m afraid he may not make it through initiation. Which sucks because he’s the first and only friend I’ve made here. He’s got bright blond hair that rests in soft waves on top of his head. He has freckles scattered across his face, which makes him look even YOUNGER than he is. Which I don’t know how old he is in the first place. His eyes are like mine. In which that means they are green. Light green. And really cool. He’s got the same sense of humor as me, too. Which is great. It’s only been a day, but I’m happy.  
"Third to last jumper!“ Eric.  
That’s his name. Eric and Four. There are two others, I think, but these two are the ones assigned to our group. Four looks tough, but soft as well. He’s the nicer one. Tall, built, hard to describe skin. It’s not brown, but it’s not pale like mine. He’s Caucasian, but I really wouldn’t consider the tone of his skin tan. It doesn’t feel real to me. Maybe it’s the lighting here. I’m not sure. Eric, from what I saw of him, is just a little bigger. In muscle, not in size. I think they’re the same height, roughly. He’s paler, considerably, and the one I’m considering ‘bad cop’.  
"On the mat!” He orders us. I freeze when I see his face.  
"M-m-mmmmm-ma-mar-marc-cus?“ I ask, under my breath.  
Marcus. His name is Marcus. This man isn’t Eric. This is the kid I grew up with. He was my best friend. Right? No, maybe I imagined all that. I can’t tell what’s real or not anymore. I agreed that I was starting over, anyways. I quickly shake my head and look down. I don’t need my leader thinking I’m crazy. Though……I really hope I didn’t imagine Marcus. Imagine the only friend I ever had. course, the last time I saw him he wasn’t’ a man, and he sure as hell wasn’t that big. Scrawny little boy, that’s my Marcus.  
"Ready to go down, little girl?” Third to last asks me. He’s already crouched down, already in stance.  
We haven’t actually learned anything, yet. Today they’re evaluating what we know so they can see how to train us. If any of us need to be put in a special class. Once that’s determined, Four and Eric split us up and train us accordingly. I already know how to fight. I think. I shouldn’t let myself get too cocky. The let down will be impossible. Of course, now I’m anxious and I can feel an attack coming on. Simply because I can’t remember if Marcus was real or not.  
"Begin!“ Eric calls. Marcus. Eric. Shit I need to get out of here before I freak out on them. No. Focus. You NEED to focus right now. I nod at myself and do what I have to. Which is make the room disappear. It’s the only thing that’ll get me through this fight. Sheer willpower, and the need to not become Factionless. I might be crazy, but I need to try. It’s something I promised myself and some very important people. I promised I would try to get better. So I’m trying to get better.  
I open my eyes and see only the target. Third to last. A boy from Candor that used to bully kids at our school. He never paid me or my friend any attention. Thankfully. Doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt people. Which is why I can hurt him now without blinking. All I have to do is see him for what he is. Where are your flaws, bully? Candorite bully. Uses the truth against people. To get them to bend to his will. Impressive, honestly, one that can do that, but to bully the wrong people? It’s cruel.  
He steps before he swings at me. I easily dodge the first jab, knocking it away with my own fist. He narrows his eyes at me. his mouth is moving, but I don’t hear the words coming out. I wait for his next move. I block his jabs for a full minute. Just to be sure of myself. To know that this is how I’m taking him down. He’s pathetic. For me, anyways. I know what I’m doing. But that’s just because I’ve been fighting my whole life. I take a breath and wait for his next jab. He steps and I make the move. I grab his fist and yank him towards me. Then I trip him up and send him to the ground. I look at him, and tilt my head. He tried to get back up but I don’t give him the chance. The rules are clear. First to be unable to continue. I kick him in the temple easily and send him into dreamland. Easiest fight I’ve ever been in.  
The room returns to me almost too fast. I don’t get the time to relish the fight. I just feel the panic creeping up on me. It’s paralyzing. I hate it that I can’t control these. But it’s something I will learn to deal with before my time in initiation is done. I will get better, and I will learn to take care of myself. I look at Eric, who narrows his eyes at me and looks down at his clip board.  
"Pan…..” He frowns at the name, but it soon slides off his face. Yes. My name is Pan. Short for Panikos. Look it up, children, it’s pronounced funny.


	2. Friendship?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is mental health like in Dauntless?

“You can go.” He dismisses me easily. I nod and remove myself from the matt.   
“Holy crap! How did you do that so fast? It’s like you didn’t even try!” Kyle yells. I shrug him off and shake my head. “Come on, you aren’t gonna be all, quiet rage or whatever are you?” he asks me. I shake my head.   
“T-tell….t-te-tell Fffffffffour II’m…..b-bath-bathroom?” I ask him quietly. he follows me to the doorway to the gym and nods. He has that knowing concerned look on his face right now. He hasn’t known me more than a few hours and he’s already covering for me. I owe him. And I hate owing people. But right now I need to get out of this room and away from him. Definitely away from him. And Eric. Who I think looks like Marcus who may or may not even exist. That terrifies me.   
“Yeah, I got you. Don’t worry.” He answers with a nod. Thank you. I nod back and leave.   
As soon as the door close I let my air out. I can’t breathe. I can never breathe when these things happen. My air is just…..gone. Something is very wrong with me. I run down the tunnel, which is dimly lit, and go straight to the first closet I find. Maintenance closet. Perfect. I close the door behind me and slid to the floor without so much as turning the lights on. I need to breathe. I bring my legs to my chest and start the slow and grueling process of hyperventilating.   
No, I am not glorifying this. Not a bit. A panic attack is a VERY slow and grueling process. Impossible. Its like sheer terror mixed with a five mile run in the snow. But it’s the dead of summer, too. So your fingers are freezing cold, and the rest of you in completely dying of heat stroke. All while you can’t breathe. And your mind is gong insane because you think about everything. Al a million miles an hour. And there is no comforting time. It’s sheer terror. Also the hardest thing to deal with right in the beginning of your initiation. THAT is hard.   
Is he real? Was Marcus real? Is it possible for him to have been fake? I mean i grew up with him. But i AM crazy, so there’s a possibility he wasn’t And that scares the hell out of me. if he wasn’t real, if I imagined my only friend. What do I do? He had to have been real. there’s no ŵy He wasn’t. But what if he wasn’t real? What if I really AM just crazy? Honestly It wouldn’t surprise me, but he HAD to be real. There’s no way he wasn’t real. He was real. My Marcus was and is real. I am just projecting him onto Eric because that’s what I do. It’s just what I do.

 

“Are you okay?” Kyle asks. I look up from my small try of food. This is definitely a step up from what I’m used to.  
I glance over at Eric sitting at the ‘leader’s table’ with our four instructors. Which consist of him, the big leader. He’s not just an instructor, he’s a full on leader of Dauntless. SO, don’t mess with him. Then there’s Jenna. She works at a tattoo parlour in the business district of the pit. She’s pretty cool, but she works with the Dauntless born with Jasper. Jasper, I haven’t heard much of anything about him. Just that he and Jenna like to dance between the sheets o?r something like that. I don’t believe that. They don’t so much as look at each other. They talk, but I can tell by their body language that they don’t sleep together. Then there’s Four. Top of his class, followed up by Eric. He’s quiet, but looks tough. smart, too. He’s sitting a good distance from the other three. Eric is currently just waiting us all eat. When he catches my eye, I look down quickly.   
“Yo, earth to Pan!” I look over at Peter, who’s best friends with Kyle, apparently.   
I don’t talk to him. Mostly because I know he’ll berate me for my stutter. I wish I could just get rid of the stupid thing. I will by the time physical training is over. That is something I will make sure of. I’m not living in Dauntless the rest of my life with a stutter. I’ll never survive. So I’m working on ways to get over it. I just look back at Kyle, smile and nod.   
“So you came from…..?” Pete asks me.  
I sigh and get up from the table. I don’t need you to know anything about me. I know you’ll just do what you always did in school and use it against me. It’s Peter Hayes specialty. He comes from Candor and he makes sure everyone knows it. He’s honestly someone I can respect. The method,not the way he uses it. Always to the wrong person for the wrong reason. He likes finding everything out about a person and using it against them. He’s exceptional at it. I’m just glad he never did it to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having fun yet? She's certainly not. Hope you're enjoying, I promise these chapters get longer with time. Maybe I'll double up next week for funsies.


	3. See You Again

“Ah!” I let out a pathetic scream when someone’s hand closes on my arm.   
It’s a big hand, and very strong, I react quickly and bring my fist to their face. They, whoever they are, grabs my fist just before it makes contact and pushes me back. I bring my knee up when they slam me back against the wall of the dimly lit tunnel. I get my knee Between us and shove at them. Judging by how large they are, and muscular their silhouette is, it’s a guy. But I’m not able to quite make out their face yet. Not that I need to. I shove him back, or try to, but my muscles aren’t quite developed enough to get him off me.   
“Think you could change you name and just sneak by without me noticing you, Charlie?” He asks. I flinch back and out an arm around my stomach. Eric.   
“I-I’m-I’m……..sssssssor-sorry?” I ask him. How does he know my name? He scoffs.   
“Come om, Charlie. You know who I am. I know you do, or you wouldn’t be avoiding me.” He snaps. I shrink a little before standing up taller and straighter.   
“Mmmmmmmar?” I ask. I hate this stutter. But it’s Marcus. I think that’s what he’s trying to say. Which is a huge relief. Marcus is real. I’m not entirely insane.   
“It’s Eric now, Lamb. What? were you too afraid to come say hello?” He makes his voice sinister. Sinister and sarcastic.  
He’s making fun of me. I know my Marcus. He wouldn’t make fun of me. There’s no way. I feel myself fall inside. Just a little. He’s gone. Marcus is gone. Whoever this Eric is, he killed my best friend. The one thing left that I thought I might still have. But he’s gone. Eric killed Marcus. Mar would never want to become this piece of crap. Someone that laughs at fear. Whatever I thought might be left here, Marcus is just gone.   
“Too afraid to talk, LAMB?” He mocks. Lamb, my old nick name. Something he gave me a long time ago. I don’t remember why or how. But he’s been calling me that since I was thirteen. I swallow hard and make myself look brave.   
“Y-you'rrrrrre ob-obviously NOT Marcus anymore. To call you that would to be to insult my best friend.” I snap. On the inside, I’m ecstatic that I said all that with barely any stuttering. I wanna high five myself.   
“Watch what you say to me, Lamb. I’m responsible for any future you think you might have here. Let me say that we have no room for people with pathetic stutters.” He growls, shoving me back against the wall. Alarms begin to go off in my head suddenly. Telling me he’s much too close. That he’s gotta get back or I’m going to freak out on him. I WILL hurt him. Especially since he killed Marcus.   
“Get off me. I’m not, nor will I ever be here for you. I’ll say whatever I want to you because I’m Dauntless. Like this. Piss off.” I quip. I only ever stop stuttering successfully when I’m angry. Anger is an amazing distraction. He laughs, LAUGHS at me after that. Even tosses his head back. I heat up in anger and clench my fists.   
“Where’d you get that pathetic stutter, huh? Careful what you say. The last time I saw you, you were shoving your way through people just to say goodbye. Maybe I could-”  
“You can back the hell off before I show you just what I remember about YOU, Eric.” I spit his name with as much poison in my voice as I can. I bring my face close to his and glare hard. He just smirks. “I’m not here to be tortured by the likes of you. Back the hell off.” I slip past him and Stalk down the tunnel towards outside.  
I need to not be trapped underground for a few minutes. Maybe I’ll go for a run. Damn, I miss running. A lot. I used to run all the time. It was my favourite thing to do. Among my favourite-no. It WAS my favourite thing to do. Running with the wind in my hair. Feeling it hitting my skin. And the way my muscles would ache afterwards. I like the pain. It means I’m doing something with myself. Running is the one thing that’s always been good at clearing my head. Every time. It helps me think through problems, too.   
I make my way through the dim tunnels towards the training gym. There’s a quarter mile track inside it. It’s pretty awesome. The gym is huge, and there are different routes inside it that we can run, but I like the normal circular one. It’s predictable. It’s the one I like to use when I get free time. Which, today, hasn’t been that much. I imagine I’ll be using the more elaborate ones eventually. But maybe not. There’s always the……desire to go outside. But the initiates aren’t technically supposed to leave the initiate’s part of the complex until after training. Yeah, like I’m letting that happen. I NEED to have fresh air. Maybe….maybe later. Right now I need to clear my head. If at all possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about to have some serious fun.....maybe.


	4. Tattoo's

“Pan!”  
I sigh and turn around at the yelling of my name. Probably by Kyle. And guess who it is? I roll my eyes and smile. He’s running over to me like a child runs to it’s best friend or favourite parent. It’s cute. He’s a puppy in my mind. I hope he continues to hang around. He’s the one person here who hasn’t asked about my stutter, yet. He’s from Erudite, and probably has no idea how to actually fight. Or shoot. Not that I have any real experience in that area. Shooting. I can fight, and I know I can fight, it’s the other things I’m worried about. The shooting, the knives, the being ordered around by jackass men that need to assert their dominance through brutal obedience training. It’ll be exhausting.  
“Hhhhhey.” I greet him with a tired smile.  
I’m not tired physically. No, it’s more mental right now. I just want to go back to sleep for awhile. This whole day has been giving me whiplash. And there’s still something I need to do before anything else happens. It’s required of me, by me, for me. It HAS to happen today before I get asked about it again. It’s why I’ve had my coat on all day. AND my long sleeved black shirt that I came in. I won’t….I won’t take them off until I get what I need to do done. And that won’t be until tonight. Unfortunately.  
“You okay? You look like you’ve- ”  
“D-don’t….don’t ssssay sssssen a-a g-ghost.” I roll my eyes at him. He just laughs with me before shaking his own head.  
“I wasn’t gonna say that. You just look spooked. Did someone say something? Was it Peter?” He asks me. I take a seat on the small bench that’s sitting against the wall behind the punching bags. The wall is lined with them, I’ve found.  
“Nnnno. Not him. B-but….hhhhhe’s an asshole.” I mutter. He laughs again.  
“Yes he is. That’s the straight right truth. You’ll get used to it. He’s just closed off. YOU are going to love him after awhile. But if you don’t talk to him, he’ll dig. He’s good at digging.” He warns. I just close my eyes.  
I feel like I’m going to burst. Everything that’s happened today alone is exhausting. Two attacks, and the shock of Eric being MARCUS. And the idea that now I’m in the real world again after so long NOT being in the real world. It’s an explosion of SHIT. It’s terrifying. I don’t care about the fighting, or even the training. I’ve always been able to fight. But the interaction with people is going to get ridiculous soon enough. I already know that much. It’s going to catch up to me quickly.  
Get knocked down, get back up. I can handle this. If Peter thinks he’s digging into my past, he’s very wrong. No one digs into my past without me making sure they don’t find anything. So I’ll just have to make him shut up. Somehow. I’ve already put him in the infirmary today. He wasn’t there for long, obviously, but I'll just have to do it again. I’ll break something on him, or I’ll threaten him. He will not be the reason I go back. He will NOT be the reason I become Factionless. That shit isn’t happening. Not for some slick shit asshole that thinks he’s entitled to MY past. It’s mine for a reason.  
“Thhhanks. M-mind giv-ving mme some…ssspace?” I ask him, getting back up. I really need to get out some energy that I don’t have, and think a little. Revenge planning. To hell with Peter, to hell with Eric. I won’t let them get in my way. This is Dauntless.  
“Hey, me and Pete wanted to sneak out later. Go see what the Pit has to offer. Wanna come with? Could be funsies.“ He jokes, making guns with his hands and ‘shooting’ them at me. The stupid look on his face is what makes me devolve into laughter. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows up, his mouth hanging open in a 'please’ grin. He’s a puppy. I roll my eyes before nodding.  
"Sure. J-just…..” I sight. I hate myself. Shouldn’t be stuttering. “Wwwwatch for the lllleaders.” I nod at that, and begin my walking backwards away from him. He flicks his wrist.  
“Absolutely.” He salutes me. I shake my head and turn to start running. 

 

“I am liking this place. Where to first?” Kyle asks.  
I look around the pit cautiously. It’s full of tiny shops. It’s weird here. There is a bar on one end, while there’s a tattoo shop on the other. Everything is in credits, currency wise. It’s crowded, too. The smell of food is everywhere. People talking all around us. I strangely love it. The atmosphere is very lax, but rushed at the same time. Adrenaline filled, and no pressure to be perfect. Where I came from, I always felt pressure. It’s like no one is staring now. Or, fewer people. We all look old enough that we’re not being questioned on our presence here. When you’re here after nine at night, there’s an age limit to the people allowed in. Pete apparently knows how to talk his way into anywhere. He got us in, and we haven’t been questioned since.  
Me, Pete, and Kyle aren’t the only ones out past curfew. It’s only the first day, and no one is listening to the rules. Not like I would expect any of us to. We’re in Dauntless now. The point is to be rebellious. Protect people, be brave, be strong, but also be unafraid to go our own way. I memorized the motto thing before I came here. It means something for me to be here. I always loved to fight, but it was more than that. I always loved everything about Dauntless. IT’s corny, but I believe that Dauntless has everything. You can be smart here, and brave here, and in some twisted way, you can be chill, and honest. Dauntless is like having all five factions in one.  
“Tattoo.” I state confidently. My money should have been wired to me today, anyways. My birthday was just a week or so ago. Pete and Kyle look at each other before shrugging.  
“Tattoo it is.” Pete says.  
I fall behind them to let them lead the way. I see the shop across the crowd of people. Yay. It’s just people. They can’t touch you. Well, they can, but they won’t. Hopefully? Just kick their asses. That’s what Dauntless would do. Kick their asses for laying a hand on you. I know just what I'm going to get. I have it planned out. But first, I need to cover the scar on my wrist. Immediately before people CONTINUE to inquire about it. It’s not something I would care to think about, either. I would just like to get over it, move on, and never talk about it again to anyone. I’ve already been asked about it since I was released for the faction ceremony. I am not putting up with anymore. My past is gone. I’m new.  
I flinch when we enter a crowd of people just before the tattoo shop. It’s a small crowd of men, but they’re all very large men. I think there are seven of them. They’re all taller than me, and at least twice my body weight if not more. I’m five foot three inches. They all tower over me like the buildings over the city. They’re very broad shouldered and muscular. I bet they’re the brute force of Dauntless. All in tight fitting shirts, or tank tops. Wife beater tank tops, at that. I meet one of their eyes, a pair of dark brown ones that, and I kid you not, smolder. HIS hair in particular, the only hair that I notice, is crazy atop his head. His face is nothing but stubble and he has a barbed wire tattoo on his neck. His lips pull up in the corners very menacingly before I have to slip past him. I shrink down and follow my 'friends’.  
I yelp when someone slaps my ass. But quickly whip around for retaliation. Their hand really dug in, and now there’s a very sharp sting. I have been told I’m attractive by many a guy, but I don’t see why that’s grounds for assault. I twist my face into a sneer at the person as I stretch my arm and prepare for impact. I strike hard and fast. Very hard and fast. Unfortunately for him, he’s too tall for me to reach his face. So I get his throat. And it’s a hard hit. Hard enough that he immediately begins to choke on his air as he staggers back. It’s a response I trained myself to have a long time ago. I’ve been in many fights, back in school. I’m used to having reflexes. Being fast. It’s my tool.  
“Damn, sexy.” One of the other guys comments. I begin to heave a little bit, but force myself to relax. I want to make some statement, but I’m confident that my voice would fail. I just glare at all of them before turning to go.  
“Fuckin bitch.” Another mutters. I toss my head back and laugh before turning again.  
“Bitch?” I ask. I stuff my hands in my back pockets and nod. “And I thought sexual harassment was a douchy thing to do. Guess your man ego has officially been wounded. Dickhead.” I challenge.  
It’s out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve said. This is when my hands go ice cold and my heart rate goes up. I need to get out of here NOW. I turn on my heel before they can react and walk away quickly. I cannot believe I just said that to a GANG of GUYS. How am I that stupid? Holy shit, you idiot. I don’t know what they say, or if they’re coming after me, so I just try as hard as I can to act confident as I weave through the rest of the people in the Pit to find Pete and Kyle. I panic slightly when I don’t find them but the blonde mop of hair on Kyle’s head gives him away easily. I take a breath and rush over to them. They’re already at the front counter talking to a tall woman with short pink hair.  
“Yo, Pan. You get lost?” Pete asks. I don’t care what he says, he’s already annoying.  
“Stuff it, Hayes.” I snap. I discreetly look over my shoulder to make sure the guys aren’t following. They’re still exactly where they were, and the guy I hit is still touching his neck. He’s back to normal now, though. I curse myself internally at the sheer stupidity of what I just did. He’s the second biggest guy there. The actual biggest guy is still eyeing me. Which makes me freeze before turning around stiffly. I’m screwed.  
“So what are you looking to get?” The lady behind the counter asks me. I look at Kyle, and raise my eyebrows.  
“Wwwwhat are y-you guys….g-getting?” I ask them. Try to be happy. Try to act like you care.  
“I’m getting this sick ass dragon on my leg.” He points at a book that’s open in front of him. I step closer and look at it. The design is simple enough, just a dragon with it’s wings spread out behind it. Almost all black, aside from the eye that’s showing. It’s a side view. The eye is red, and seems to be glaring. I smile and nod. “He’s getting some weird thing on his arms.” He nods to Pete. He’s not in my interests.  
I bite my lip when I look at the Pixi behind the counter. She’s waiting expectantly. I’m a new kind of nervous now. I hope either of them inquire about the scar. I slowly put my arm on the counter and pull m sleeve back to show her my wrist. The scar is thick, and obvious, since the skin is a lighter shade then the rest of my arm. It goes all the way around my wrist, and is puffy like a pop up book sort of thing. Restraint scar. Again, I don’t think about it anymore. I just want to forget everything that’s happened in the past. Hence the new tattoo. They all stiffen momentarily at the shock of the scar. Most have the same reaction. Shock.  
“I wwwwant-want it c-covered.” I explain. She just meets my eye before nodding. Good.  
“Right this way. I’ll do it myself. You and you go with Kyle.” She points to our left. All of us laugh at the name. Kyle. Like OUR Kyle.  
“Hey, that’s my name.” Kyle nudges my arm. I shake my head and follow the lady while they go the other way.  
The place is nice, honestly very…..Dauntless. Exactly what you’d expect. Dim lighting, and loud music. The whole place is lit by a bunch of yellows, purples, and blues. It’s honestly very enticing. There are chairs for tattoos everywhere. I read up on the business. There is this tattoo parlour, and it gives the, what I like to call, iron on tattoos. The needle stitchers are the ones that do it the old fashioned and extremely painful way. Taking a needle and sticking it into the body with ink. There are walls covered in glass panels that have tattoo design ideas. Otherwise, the place is made of concrete and underground rock.  
“Have a seat here. This shouldn’t take any time at all.” She spins a chair around for me to sit in. It’s covered in black padding, and had a table next to it with all the supplies she’ll be needing. These are considerably less painful, and take a fraction of the time and money. The iron ons. I take a seat in the chair and force myself into a relaxing position. I hate letting anyone touch the scar. “Would a band around it work for you, or are you looking for a particular design?” She asks. I look at my wrist and shrug.  
“Ban-band wwworks. Just c-cover it.” I answer. She puts on gloves and begins.  
“How did you acquire it?” She asks. Acquire? She’s an Erudite wannabe, or a past Erudite. I smirk at myself before shrugging.  
“How llllllong will my frien-ds t-take?” I ask. I hate my stutter. I’ll get over it soon. She places the patch thing on my wrist and wraps it around he scar. It’s not rope, it’s not rope. It’s not going to hurt you. You aren’t there. This is home, now. Just a tattoo.  
“Not too long. They’re getting the same type of tattoo. We don’t allow children to get needle tats.” She stiffens when a large man walks into the room. I gulp. It’s the guy I hit. And he’s looking for someone.  
“G-good. Thanks.” I mumble. I sink a little, and try hard to close my eyes.  
“Shiva.” I flinch when the voice is just above us. To my left. He’s standing over her, but he’s glaring at me. I should not have hit him.  
“Leave. I told you you aren’t welcome here. Ever. Leave.” She orders. Her voice is shaking. She’s small compared to him. He’s like a giant dark cloud.  
“You KNOW I’m not like that, Shiva.” He growls. Everything out of his mouth is kind of….really scary. He sounds like a human chainsaw. Gravely voice, angry, very deep. It’s something that could tear a whole in your face if he yelled loud enough. I flinch again when my wrist begins to heat up. Great, I can FEEL it. I didn’t want to have to feel it. Doesn’t matter. No time and I can go to sleep. It’s all I want to do right now.  
“I actually DO. And this is my workplace, so leave. I’m with a client.” She growls. There’s the Dauntless confidence we all love. I tune them out after that. She has it handled.


	5. The Man at the Bar

“Pan!” I sigh at my name being called again. By Eric. Again.   
He’s been keeping me fighting with the biggest kids in our class. Keeping me fighting with the ones I absolutely hate, or hate me. The ones that are extremely strong and crude and just……..good at hitting me. I’m exhausted. It’s been a…..two weeks? Feels like it’s been two months. Or two years. I haven’t been this physically exhausted in years. Or in this much physical pain. It’s honestly wearing on me. I just want to fall down dead every night. And when I GET to sleep, it doesn’t last. I have nightmares every night. I hate that Eric IS Marcus, and is bullying me. I hate it. We used to be best friends.   
At least Four isn’t awful. He tries to be the big scary guy, but he’s not. He puts off that he’s unapproachable, and brave, strong. The last two are correct, the first is not. He’s actually very approachable. To me, at least. He has taken a liking to the Stiff Tris. And I really don’t care. The only thing I’m having fun with is acting like I give a crap about Four instead of Eric. It bothers Eric that I ask Four questions, or stare at Four. TALK to Four and Eric’s all over it. It’s funny. And the only revenge I’m getting for Eric’s jerk behavior. And Four is nice to me. Nicer than even HE thinks he is. And he’s’ kind of hot.   
Kyle and I have been getting closer. We spend most of our time training together. And if we aren’t training together, we’re hanging out. I actually fell asleep on him once in the dining hall. I felt like a jerk for it, but he thinks it’s funny. Peter still won’t let it go. Kyle’s a really nice kid, strangely. Not the type one would find in Dauntless. He’s kind, and almost always energetic. He’s an inch taller than me, but still manages to be shorter than Peter. He’s always smiling or laughing, too. Even when he’s fighting. He always makes jokes. Never asks about my stutter, either. In fact, he’s helped a LOT in the way of helping me get passed it.   
Peter, on the other hand, won’t leave me alone. He and Kyle grew up together. They hung out in school all the time, and out of school when they could. Peter’s from Candor while Kyle is from Erudite. But that didn’t stop them from being friends. Peter is a jerk. I don’t hate him, Much to my surprise. The guy’s growing on me. He’s funny, and matches my dark humor when we talk. He stopped prying into my past after I got my first tattoo. He helps Kyle in training with me, and he’s pretty smart. Really good at getting information when he wants it. Like the thing with Tris’s parents. He bullies everyone, and I don’t respect that, but he’s not a jerk to me. He even keeps the creeps off my back sometimes.   
“What?” I ask Eric.   
He obviously wants something from me. I just want to know what it is so I can leave. I technically should be in the infirmary right now. I think I may have a concussion. Which really isn’t that bad when you live in this faction, but I want to make sure it’s nothing horrible. Eric, when he looks at me, seems to not be as angry as he usually is. He’s usually always glaring at me, or…..something. I don’t understand what I’VE done wrong. He’s the one that cut out after knowing me for eight years. Being my best friend for forever. He left and I haven’t seen him in THREE years. Not a single word. So he can go to hell.   
“Why aren’t don’t you join the other initiates in the nightly exercise?” He asks. I roll my eyes. Maybe it’s because I had another panic attack earlier and I’m barely getting any sleep at night.   
“Maybe it’s because you’re plaguing my nightmares. I get enough exercise kicking your ass.” I mutter. Kyle, who followed me over, begins to ‘cough’ at my response. Eric narrows his eyes, and I figure I’m done for. “Alright, so maybe not all of them are nightmares. Maybe I enjoy kicking you ass.” I continue. In honesty, when I wake up at night, I always wander the complex. I have the whole thing memorized already. Took barely any time at all.   
“You sure I’m not doing something else to you in those dreams?” He asks, looking me up and down. I blink a few times before feeling my face heat up. He’s joking. He has to be joking. I open my mouth and come back without thinking about it.   
“Now that WOULD be a nightmare.” I quip. He straightens out with a small growl that shuts Kyle’s laughter up very quickly.   
“You forget who you’re talking to, initiate.” He emphasizes the name that’s supposed to make me feel as if I’ nothing more than an initiate to him. But all it does is tell me that he DOES think I’m special in some way. He hates me. And the feeling is mutual.   
“I really don’t. Marcus.” I growl back at him. Then I look at the clock and smile. “I have an appointment to get to.” I step around him and head towards the door. By now, there are a few eyes on us. This is the first argument we’ve had in awhile. Mostly because I don’t really talk back at a volume he can hear, but I DO talk back a lot. He grabs my upper arm in a very tight grip that really hurts and glares at me.   
“I didn’t say you could leave.” He growls into my ear. I smirk at him, though my heart is racing.   
“Appointment meaning mandatory. Meaning you don’t over-ride it.” I look him dead in the eye. I’m lying. I’m lying through my teeth. I have an appointment, but it’s with my tattoo artist. My parent’s funds transferred into mine, and I’m getting myself a tattoo. Another tattoo. I’m doing that, and then I hope I’ll get to wander the upper levels of the complex a little more. Eric narrows his eyes at me.   
“What kind of appointment?” He asks, his grip tightening. I think I know exactly what I’m going to throw in his face. I wince a little at the pain in my arm, but hold his gaze the best I can.   
“I’m getting my feminine check up. You know, the legs spread, the boob grab, and maybe a birth control shot.” I look him up and down when he twitches. I know it’s something he’ll be disgusted to hear about. I can see it in his eyes.   
“Why do YOU need birth control?” Eric asks with a smirk. Oh, you’re really challenging me? He legs my arm go and I scoff. I pat his chest with a smile.   
“Don’t flatter yourself, Coulter.” I spit before walking out.  
I don’t like lying unless I have to, but I admit it’s fun when it’s to someone like Eric. I know he’s surprised to hear that I’m 'getting a birth control shot’, so it’s great. He doesn’t deserve to know if I’m like that anyways. Having sex. If I hadn’t been where I was the last few years, I would have probably taken the opportunity to lose my virginity when I had the chance. But I never did, and I’m probably one of the only eighteen year olds here that’s never had sex. I know Marcus would be shocked that I would be 'getting out there’ since I was not exactly forthcoming to the idea when I was younger, which is why I said it. And I know there are a lot of people that heard that. Meaning that means that I’m going to regret saying that in some capacity.   
“You’re getting laid?” Peter asks. He’s following me now. Yay.   
“Yeah I thought I would have known that.” Kyle comes up on my other side. I look at them with a smile. They’ve become good friends. I’m wary of Peter, but he’s not half bad. Kyle’s my own personal puppy.   
“No.” I answer. I cock an eyebrow as we make our way to the pit. “I’m getting another tattoo. Needle stitch.” I smile at myself.   
I have been designing the tattoo for years. Literally. Two years and a week and a half. Not like I had anything better to do with the time on my hands. I started designing a three square inch circular tattoo. The meaning behind the basic inner part of it is the cosmos. I love the universe and stars. Hidden meanings, and actual science. It’s the one thing I love that can’t be taken from me. The actual design is a simple one, no colour but black. It is a cross inside of a circle, inside of a square. The cross isn’t the CROSS, it’s just two lines, equal in length, that are perpendicular. They cut the circle into perfect fourths, which is perfectly fit inside the square. That’s the inner part of the design. That’s roughly one square inch of space. THAT, is all inside of another design, also without colour. It’s just the line work that I care about. So, the cross inside the circle inside the square, is all inside ANOTHER square. The corners of the first inner square are……let me explain it better. There’s he cross in the center of the circle, imagine it keeps going outside the first square another inch in each direction. From the corners of the inner square, they are all made into a point meeting the cross an inch outside the inner square. If that makes sense. And then roughly halfway up THOSE spikes, as I like to call them, is another square. But the spikes are what I’m focusing on. The square, if this makes sense, is made into a four pronged star. But the inner square is still very visible and prominent. And then there’s the outer square, which is set behind the four pronged star. Like the whole star, square, circle, cross part is set ON the outer square. And all THAT is set inside another circle. [Image provided].   
“Nice. I’m in.” Kyle states excitedly. I smile at him but shake my head.  
“You have no reason to not be training right now, man. B-both o-of yyou shhhhould be g-getting back.” Stupid stutter.  
It’s been getting a lot better. Kyle’s rampant talking all the time keeps me on my toes. He likes talking about everything all the time at every moment he can. IF he gets to. And he keeps me and Pete talking lot. My throat actually hurts sometimes from talking too much. I haven’t talked too much since I was eight. There was one person I spoke to and that was Marcus. He was my best fried, like a brother to me. In several different ways. I talked to my parents, too, but…not like I spoke to Marcus.   
“And miss you getting a tattoo? Nah.” Kyle argues. He’s so sure of himself all the time. I sigh at them both.   
“Kyle you have…"I clear my throat. "To fight tonight. You need to train.” I reason. It’s simple logic, he’s not the best fighter. He’s below the red line. Me and Pete aren’t.  
Honestly I’m hoping Pete and Kyle will just leave me the hell alone. I want to get this tattoo and sleep. Catch some extra sleep before tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m set to fight a guy named Paul. PAUL. Name doesn’t do the dude justice. He’s huge. I mean I’m actually taller than him, but he’s twice my weight and he’s ripped. He’s going to crush me if i don’t pull my shit together. With the new pain I’ll have from this tattoo I’ll probably go down. But I’m well above the red, so I’m safe if I lose. I’m actually in seventh place right now. But that’s because I focus on the fighting when we fight, and the work out s when we work out. Peter and the guy in first place, Edward, are extremely good at what they do. I hate that they’re so much better than me, but I don’t pride myself on being the best I pride myself on not losing a fight when it comes down to it. The placement on the board doesn’t scare me.   
“Yeah yeah, okay fine. I’ll go back. Pete, tell me how it goes I don’t want to feel like I missed this. Got it?” Kyle orders. Oh yeah great, stick me with the Candor that needs to know everything about everyone, fanfreakingtastic. I don’t need this right now. Not his prying ass. It’s weird enough being his almost friend. Now I have to be alone with him?   
“Fully understood.” Peter answers. Kyle laughs as he walks off back down the tunnel. I pay no mind to Peter as we walk the rest of the way through the tunnels to the pit. This place is confusing to me. I’m not sure if we’re in the bowels or not. We have to go up AND down stairs to get to where we’re going. “So tramp stamp?” He asks. Ugh. “Come on, just give me something. I don’t know anything about you. Can find you anywhere. I’m dying.” He complains. Good, this means he can’t look up my past. I cross my arms and walk as tall as I can force myself to. “Fine fine. Do you like Dauntless?” HE asks plainly. Boring question for someone like him to ask. What’s his angle here?   
“Yes. I do. You?” I ask. Shouldn’t have answered. Shouldn’t be actually talking to him. It’s pointless. He’s just going to figure out SOME way to use whatever I say against me.   
“I do. It’s less controlling than I’m used to and that’s how I like it. I don’t get in trouble for being who I am here.” He explains quietly. I narrow my eyes at him. When did YOU get interesting? “Candor is about Honesty. Never lying, but knowing when the truth should stay hidden. I hated it there.” He continues. Obviously, or you wouldn’t be here. “Where’d you come from?” He asks. I knew it. I push the doors to the Pit open and begin down the stairs.   
“I came-came fffffrom my Mother” I muter. Ah yes, sarcasm. The best thing I can think of in times like this. “L-listen, I d-don’t kn- ” I take a breath. Stop stuttering. “Y-you don’t nnnnneed tt-o be here.” I get out. Finally. Thank you.   
“I don’t. But I’m not leaving till I see you get this tat. Where, what of, and how much of a bitch you are when the stitcher stabs you.” He spits.   
Great .That’s great. Ugh. We manage to get through the crowd of people easily enough, and to the tattoo shop in silence. Shiva is here. She’s not giving me my tattoo, but there’s a guy names. France is. He’s not the best, but Shiva says he’s the nicest, and since rules are being broken here, she’s only permitting him to do this to me. So it won’t hurt as bad as it could, but it’ll be the tattoo I want it to be. And it’ll be earned pain. That’s all I want.   
“Pan. Right this way. Is he your boyfriend?” She asks, leading me back and to the right again. Surprise surprise. This has a back room devoted to needle stitch tattooing. I want to punch MYSELF in the fact for that comment. I would never remotely consider dating this jackwipe. He’s a jerk as far as I’m concerned.   
“Oh yeah. We might as well be married with how in love we are.” Peter jokes. Shiva turns a chair around for me to sit in. There’s a guy in here already getting the ink and stuff ready. Can’t help feeling a little anxious about this. Getting myself inked in the shoulder. Not being able to watch it happen. It’s all messing with my head. But no pain no gain, I guess. I owe it to myself to get this tattoo. I’ve been planning it for a long time.   
“Have a seat. Pan, right?” France asks.  
He’s short, but skinny as hell. But in a not skinny sort of way. He’s in Dauntless, so he’s got muscle just like every other person in this faction. But in THIS particular line of work, I wouldn’t think you’d need too much to get around. He’s got piercings sort of everywhere. Eyebrow, lip, nose. The one in his nose is a stuff, the others are silver and black rings. Very interesting, and somehow NOT unattractive. His hair, which is very very red, is cut shorter to his head. Lost of the men here do that. Shorter hair. He’s got those earlobe stretching things that makes his earlobe have a giant hole in it. His eyes are darker brown. It’s not unusual for the guys in Dauntless. They end to have blue eyes and brown. It’s strange that he’s shorter than me.   
“Yeah. Fffffrance?” I ask him. He smiles and nods, patting the black pads on the chair.   
“Oh, before you sit, where are you getting it?” He asks. Yeah that might be important.   
“Mmmy llleft shoulder. Hhhere.” I reach over y shoulder and pat just above the shoulder blade. He nods again. He’s wearing very dark black gloves that seem to be like a second skin on his hands.   
“If it’s there, then I’ll need you to remove your shirt and sit against the chair with your chest to the back. If your bra is in the way, you’ll need to remove that, too. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anyone see anything. I’m professional unless you don’t want me to be, sweetheart.” He talks so fast I barely catch his words. I think he’s telling me to take my shirt off. Yeah, alright. I blink a couple times and remove my shirt.   
“Take it off……” I turn on Peter and grab the collar of his shirt. The smug smirk still doesn’t vanish.   
“Don’t start with me right now.” I growl. He frowns, but nods.   
“Got it.” He answers. I turn back around and take another breath to steady myself.   
“You’re going to need to remove it.” He nods to my black bra.   
I look down at myself, crossing my arms over my stomach. Great. I nod, sitting down in the chair before even thinking about it. I’m definitely not an exhibitionist. I don’t do nude in public. I can do the sports bra and shorts, because that’s how I train, but that’s it. I’m not giving anyone a show right now. I un-clip my bra and let the straps slip down my arms to the crook of my elbows. I feel a lot cooler for one, and very exposed. IT’s not horrible, though. France rolls his chair around to my left side and smiles at me. I just set my chin on the back of the chair.   
“Don’t worry. Strictly professional. Normally I’d give you shit for being afraid of that here, but with the rep Dauntless has I think you have good reason to worry. You’re way too small to fight someone like me off. But as I said, professional. Just gonna double check a few things. You’re not pregnant?” He asks. I smile weakly, but shake my head. he thought makes me sick to my stomach to even think about. I don’t even bleed, yet. Peter takes a seat in a different chair on m other side. I don’t look at him.   
“No.” I answer.   
“You don’t have any diseases? I’ve already checked your blood, but oral confirmation is needed.” He asks. I nod.   
“Nothing I know of. I’m no sexually active, either. Nothing wrong with any part of me as far as I know. Liver function is fine.” I sigh, searching my brain for the next health question.   
“That just about covers it. This is the design you want? And the size?” He asks. I look at the design I’ve been working on for the last few years and nod. “And on your shoulder?” He continues. Again, I nod. “Good. This is going to take an hour or two. I’m going to give you some ointment after for you to use over the next week. After that you should be fine. You ready for this?” He asks. I smile.   
“Yes. Thank you.” This is going to be great. I’m only skipping out on the fight training for the last hour of the day.  
I’m HAPPY to get away from them. Eric’s a freak, and it’s really screwing with my head to be around him. Four, the other instructor for us, along with Jasper and Lauren, is really weird. He tries to be all brooding and anger all the time. It doesn’t work. He’s really bad at it, though everyone’s still managing to be afraid of him. The other two are training the Dauntless born, so I have no impression of them. I just know they’re here. I’m also happy to get away from the other transfers. They are insane. Some of them are honestly ridiculous when it comes to the dick measuring contest. That’s what I call it when they have to prove who’s better. They’re measuring dicks. Men and women.   
“This is going to hurt.” France warns. The buzzing makes me flinch when he turns the pen on. It’s a low pitched buzzing, not even annoying. I feel like I could fall asleep listening to that. I lay my head down before closing my eyes. “Here we go.” He jokes. He puts his hands, with are much larger than they look, on my shoulder to hold me down. I smirk to cover up the nerves. I almost don’t actually feel it when he sticks me with the pen. It’s not anywhere near as bad as everyone makes it out to be. Just a hard pinch. I let myself relax into the chair while he works.   
“That doesn’t hurt?” Peter asks after a few minutes. I just shake my head lazily.   
“I think I could fall asleep. Coulter’s been…..” I sigh.   
“Working you to the bone?” France asks. Peter laughs at the question like it’s stupid to ask. “He’s notorious for that. Gets worse every year. Had a kid nearly die of exhaustion once. Crossed Coulter on a bad day.” Great. That’s JUST what I want to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post a picture of her tattoo on my tumblr, for those of you that wish to see it. I designed it myself, I promise. Looks like Pan's getting some balls.


	6. The man at the bar (Part Two)

A few hours later, me and Peter are walking into a bar across the pit from the tattoo shop. This, of course, is his idea. I just spent the last few hours halfway in and out of consciousness in a chair with a Guy sticking a needle in my arm. HE, wants to get a drink to celebrate. My arm, I can tell you right now, is sore as hell. I hate it. But France, the nicest guy that’s adult in this faction, told me all I have to do is clean it for the next week and then check back in with him. Just to be sure it’s perfectly okay, healing well. I don’t regret it at all. I love it so far. I saw a picture of it, and it’s perfect. Even Peter thinks it’s pretty cool.   
“Where do you wanna sit!?” He yells over the music that’s blasting.   
I think this is a partial club. There’s a nice dance floor over there that’s just full of people dancing over there. Girls and guys grinding all over each other mostly. This place is nice. But it’s also old fashioned looking. Like old world old fashioned. The floor and all the tables are made of wood. Then there’s the chairs. But the bar is made of something else. I’m not entirely sure what it is. I can’t really see in this lighting. I can sort of see shine, but that’s it. There’s too many people. BUT, there’s a table way over in the corner that seems perfect. Which is where I point to. He nods, and we sort of halfway walk, halfway dance over. Well, he dances, I walk. He’s the other half. I make myself comfortable in a chair with my back to the corner of the room. I hate being in rooms this full of people. It’s ridiculous.   
“What can I get you guys tonight?” The server, and she’s…..wow. She’s tall and skinny. She’s wearing a black top that literally only covers her breasts. Her shorts are red, and they go maybe halfway down her thighs. She’s, by anyone’s standards, hot. Incredibly so. Her hair is dark, and long. It’s almost like she’s the perfect stereotype. But she’s not blonde, and there aren’t any waves to her hair. So she’s got rimrod straight black hair. But she’s hot. Peter’s already gawking at her.   
“We want something strong. I want to get messed up.” Peter says BEFORE I can even open my mouth. I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s grinning. Not remotely paying attention to me.   
“Uhm, some fries, too? Please?” I ask much quieter. But she can hear it. She nods.   
“Thank you gorgeous. Can I also get your number?” Peter asks as she walks off. I roll my eyes at him. “No? Okay. Hey, I’m here all night….” He trails off. Yes, because she can totally still hear you. Weirdo.   
“Peter, we c-can’t just d-d-drin-drink.” I complain. I mean, we honestly can’t. We have to wait until we’re out of training to do that. He tosses his head back when he laughs at me.   
“Do you ever relax, Atlas? Just chill. Have a fucking drink.” He complains.   
I knew I didn’t want to be here with him. I knew it. He’s just an asshole. He’s trying to get me to drink? I don’t drink. I have never had a drink in m life until now. I want one, sure. But I don’t like being told what to do. I never have. Just drink with him. Kyle’s your best friend right now. Peter’s HIS best friend. You let him buy you a drink. Then you leave. There’s a test in the morning you need to be prepared for. Just….try. Like Kyle said. You should try to be civil.   
“Do you think I’ll get her number by the time we leave? Maybe she’ll invite me back to hers.” He mumbles. I roll my eyes, bobbing my head to the electric style music playing. I think it’s called electronic. I’m not big on music or movies. I just sort of read. And fight. I love fighting.   
“No. Wwwwwhat would y-you do i-if shhhhhe d-did an-anyways?” I ask him. The whole concept of sex is way out there for me. I’ve…never had it. “Y-you’d struggle to…..g-get-get-get i-it u-up. And shhhhhhhhe’d laugh.” I stop there. Mostly because he’s staring at me. And I hate my stutter. It’s only annoying. I don’t understand why he has to stare. I don’t understand anything anymore. Just get through training.   
“What’s with your stutter? Mommy and daddy hit you or something?” He snaps back. Yeah that might have worked on Tris, but not on me, buddy. I roll my eyes just as our drinks arrive. Both are red as hell. Not like blood red, but like…you just got hit in the face red. Like that. Then there’s a basket full of bar fries put in front of us. Amity was never one for fries, but I used to sneak into Dauntless when I could when I was younger. Just because I could. They have fries seasons to perfection. I swear.   
“Thank you.” I smile at the server before looking around the bar. Just to see who’s here.   
We’re the only initiates in here. Not that I’m surprised too much. I’m…not afraid of breaking rules. I’ve been wandering around at night to memorize the complex. Which wasn’t that hard at all. But the point is that being here and lying to Eric and Four doesn’t scare me any. Lying is nothing new. I don’t like doing it, but it’s fun sometimes. Since we’re the only ones here from our class, it feels like I'm naked. Everyone else is much older than us. Not MUCH. I’m eighteen, so most of these people are like….twenty something. Not much older. This bar is sort of famous for the younger people to come to. They’re all dancing, and being provocative. There’s a lot of people at the bar part of the bar, too. On stools, gathered in groups mostly. Everyone here seems happy. Or…it SEEMS that way, at least.  
“Where ARE you from?” He asks awhile later. The drink is surprisingly really good. It’s sweet. Sweeter than I thought it would be for sure. But it’s….definitely got the undertone of alcohol. It’s a weird combination of sweet and painful. But it tastes like strawberries. Being from Amity, I know what those taste like. I look at Peter for a moment before shrugging.   
“Guess, Candor.” I challenge. He wears the Candor thing like a badge of honor. He’s good at getting the truth out of people. He’ll definitely be intelligence after initiation. Which sucks, because that’s the job I want. Badly. It’s the whole reason I came to Dauntless. Not really. I love everything about the lifestyle here, but I really want to be a detective. That’s the dream.   
“You aren’t a Stiff. I know that much by how you talk to everyone. I would remember you from Candor.” He drones on. I just nod. Yes. Both are true. BUT, what about the stutter? “You aren’t a nose. You’re not stuck up enough to be a nose. Amity?” he asks. I smile bigger and nod as I finish off the first drink. That was really good. “So you’re about free love and happiness.” He states plain as day. His voice is beginning to annoy my eardrums. Why does everyone assume that.   
“Not anymore. Dauntless.” I correct. Free love my ass. I never liked that trope. That’s half the reason I had to fight when I was younger. Everyone wants some free love. You see it all the time. I hope to….maybe stop the stupid tropes. I don’t know. I hate it.   
“But you WERE into free love and happiness.” He argues. “Hey can we get another round!” Oh come on, that was rude. Doesn’t matter. Just…deal with it. Another drink and we can leave. I’d like to sleep before the test tomorrow. It’s a knife throwing and shooting test. Should be amazing. I’m awful at throwing. But shooting isn’t horrible. I’m high enough in the ranks I have nothing to worry about. I think I’m currently fifth? Peter is like second behind a guy named Edward. “Why transfer here? Not a lot of Hippies like fighting.” He asks. His tone is getting more serious. Woah. That’s new. I sigh as the same waitress takes our old glasses and replaces them with three more. One for me, one for Pete, and another….clear glass. But no ice. What?   
“What i-is this?” I ask her. She looks annoyed. Very annoyed. But she nods her head back towards the bar before disappearing into the crowd balancing a trey of food on her arm. “Great. We-we-’ve b-been made.” I nod over to Eric.   
He’s staring at us. Like….weird staring. He’s in a group of five guys. All of them are tall, but only three of them look strong enough to scare me. But none of them actually do. One of them being the one I throat punched two weeks ago. He’s massive. Like a wall of human man meat. Another one, he seems to just be there. But he’s talking to the others in a laid back kind of way. He’s just as big as the other wall of meat. But Eric is maybe three inches shorter than them. But he carries a certain weight around him. He’s a leader, that’s probably why. Why would he buy us a drink?   
“You think he’s into me?” Pete asks. I break eye contact with Coulter to laugh at Pete.   
“You know, I think hhhhhe m-might. B-buying y-you-you drinks. T-targetting you in th-the training field. I mean…..that-that’s ch-characteristic o-of someone th-that either likes or hhhhates you.” I respond. Shut up. You can’t talk. You’re awful at it. Peter looks over before laughing. Then he eyes the drink.   
“What do you say?” He asks, nodding to it. I don’t trust Eric. What if he’s trying to roofie us or something? I wouldn’t put it past him to do that to anyone. Especially if they’re attractive enough. He’s a little too high profile for me. Would he roofie us to get back at me. Or hurt us? He’s known to be brutal. I just ignore it and grab my own drink. “To getting shitfaced.” He offers. He lifts his own glass to me. His wiggling eyebrows suggests I have no other choice. I awkwardly tap my glass to his before downing like half of it. NOW I feel a buzz. But he looks actually drunk. “WHOO!” Yup. He’s drunk.   
“Screw it. You wanna split it?” I ask him when we’ve finished our second round. I feel nice. Like I’m floating a little. I think I’m swaying a little. I shouldn’t be. But I am. Swaying. Like a weirdo. But the clear liquid paired with the fact that Eric AND his group of guys staring at us, is just too tempting not to try it out. And then there’s the voice in the back of my head saying that we shouldn’t be afraid of anything here. Freedom from fear. If I get drugged from this shit, then we’re screwed.   
“Hell yeh.” He slurs. Great, you’re already drunk. Ish. I just shrug it off as I pour half of the clear liquid into my glass. The strawberry drink, the leftovers from it, mix with it. Gives it a pink hue, but ultimately doesn’t seem to effect it any. “On three.” He says. I look over at Eric again. Why is he even staring at us? Because we’re out? If this is drugged, and I survive, I’ll come back for YOUR ass. But it still feels like a challenge I need to take. Especially from him. “One….two…..three!” He yells. And we’re off. It feels like a race.   
The taste of the drink hits me fast and hard. The name follows. I know it as soon as it hits my tongue. The bitter taste of the drink I never thought I’d taste, let alone like. It’s bitter. Very bitter. It burns at my eyes, nose, and throat. There’s a medicinal kind of clean-ness to it. But that’s only when I take a breath. It goes down smooth, yet burns bad enough that I want to cough up a lung. But this is a challenge. I won’t back down. I don’t even glance at Eric as I finish mine off quickly as I can.   
“Man. That’s amazing.” I whisper to myself. I slam my cup down on the table just before Peter comes up for air and does he same. But he doesn’t look so good. His face is twisted in pain. His eyes are glazed over and narrowed. He’s clutching his stomach. I know I need to get him out of here BEFORE he passes out. So I get up without a word and heave him up to put one of his arms around my shoulders. “Let’s get you back.” I mumble to him.   
As soon as he’s up, he sways forward. Then he promptly makes an inhuman noise and everything that was in his stomach is now on the floor. Nope, he didn’t miss my shoes in case you’re wondering. Soon after THAT, the whole bar seems to erupt in laughter. Yes, get your fill. When I look over at Eric, he’s among the laughing. Along with every guy with him. Of course. You WANTED that to happen. Jackass. All of you suck. Peter is way too heavy, too. He’s now passed out, and hanging onto my shoulder.   
“Oh Peter. I think you successfully got shitfaced.” I mumble.

FOUR DAYS LATER  
“What are you doing out here?” I startle awake.  
Woah. Where am I? Oh yeah. I’m by the north wall in a dark tunnel. I was just at the north wall windows. The wall itself is where I hang out. Sometimes Kyle hangs out here, too. We hang out a lot. And talk a lot. The north wall has a tunnel that basically has a long row of windows. They have no glass and they’re big enough to fit both me AND Kyle in them. It’s got a nice view of the city from here. I came up here because I needed to relax. I went to the tattoo shop again today to make sure everything was doing okay. It is. In fact, everything is fine. just a little sore is all.   
I spent all day yesterday in the infirmary thanks to Eric and my exhaustion. He keeps putting me against the biggest baddest guys in my class. There are some seriously big guys in my friken class. I’m exhausted. He likes to make me work extra hard. This and the panic and anxiety attacks that are happening to me….I feel like death. I nearly dropped yesterday in the middle of a fight. Four came to me this morning and said I had to take a step back before I killed myself. Yes, because if I could I would. But Eric is riding me. It’s murder.   
“W-what?” I ask lazily. The person steps into the light after a moment in silence.   
“It’s after curfew, Charlie. You should be in bed.” Eric snaps. He’s glaring at me. “Are you here because of me?” He asks. Okay that’s weird. And I’m in a dark tunnel with one of the leaders that is known for being a creep and really hardcore. Violently and otherwise. Freedom from fear.   
“Hard as it is to believe, sir, you aren’t my god. I have other interests.” I snap. I move to walk around him. The last thing I need is more punishment from him. Well, not MORE, but any. I haven’t been punished, yet. I’m too good at everything. And I’m too good at breaking the rules.   
“So you admit I’m one of them.” He grabs my arms, both of them, and brings me backwards.  
He almost brings me off my feet. I oof into his chest, backwards. What is he doing? Why is he doing it? Why are you touching me? Is he going to rape me? Why’s he ‘so warm? His hands stay on my upper arms for awhile. Not a long time or anything, it just feels like it. I’m only wearing a tee shirt, even if it’s colder out still. His hands are burning into my arms. So is the rest of him. He’s emanating heat. It’s really weird. I’m too petrified to move. I am scared, yes. Because there are no cameras here, and he’s a leader. Everyone will trust his word over mine. Especially with my history.   
“L-let-llet m-me go.” I order. I shrug his hands off me and begin to try to get away. But then he’s in front of me. It’s like a…sticky thing that never let’s up. Am I going to have to run? No one can beat him in a fight. No one but Four. Running is strategically smarter.   
“Shh.” He puts a fingers to my lips. It’s….clumsy? His eyes are half closed, too. I step back, but he just follows. My back hits a wall, of course, and he nearly hits me. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He murmurs. I press myself back into the wall. What is he doing? Why is he so close? His breath is awful.   
“You’re smashed.” I whisper. I can’t calm my heart beat. He’s getting closer to me. “Eric stop. Please.” I close my eyes.   
“I’m gonna kiss you. I won’t hurt you.” He whispers. His breath, again, is awful. But then his forehead is pressed to mine. I can’t breathe anymore. When he puts his lips to mine, I want to throw up. His breath is that awful and confusing. Weird. It’s extremely clumsy. Like he’s too relaxed. And then he goes completely limp. What?   
“Ow.” He drags me down the wall with him.   
He’s very heavy compared to me. I’m like a hundred and ten pounds. He’s at least twice that. I fall to the ground with him flopping down on top of me. He’s drunk off his ass. Why? I don’t know. I don’t even care. I just know we’re close enough to the bunks I can drag him back. Not that I want to. He just kissed me. Why would he even do that? I take a breath before groaning. That hurts. That hurts a lot. I’ve got so many bruises it’s hard to really know what the hell is going on with me. But he definitely gave me more. I shove him off me so I can breathe again. Why would he do that? Just get over it.   
“I swear to everything I’ll kick your ass when I get the chance.” I mutter, grabbing his wrists. Have to try. Maybe he’ll go easier on me if he knows I brought him back to his room. I hate him even more now. But I’m confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like things are changing. Wonder how that's gonna go. Stay tuned, dear readers.


	7. Capture the Flag

“What’s up with you?” Kyle asks. I frown at him while hitting the bag I’m hitting.   
We’re onto more shooting. But we have free time between lunch and four o'clock at night. Meaning we all have time to study up or work our skills. Ask Four or Eric for help. I’ve been avoiding Eric for three days. He looks at me now. Like…I notice it more. And he didn’t punish me for being out past curfew, either. He woke up the next day and acted like nothing had happened. I don’t see how he could do that. He was smashed the night before. Maybe he just…blacked out? I don’t know if I’m allowed to be mad or not. He was drunk. But now I’m just confused and every time he meets my eyes I don't know what to do.   
“You’ve been quieter all week. And you do that.” He points to my face. I shrink when Eric walks by behind us. But not enough for it to be noticeable. No thank you. I’m not letting anyone know I’m afraid of him.   
“What?” I ask Kyle. He narrows his eyes at me.   
“Your cheeks get red. You have a crush on me, baby?” He asks, tapping my cheek. I toss my head back and laugh at the suggestion. Then I grab his wrist and mock being cute with him.   
“Oh yes, Kyle dearest. I’m falling in love with your golden locks and the crooked crooked teeth in your mouth. Kiss me! Kiss me now!” I mock.   
We both bust out laughing. I put my head on his shoulder while we laugh. He’s officially become my best friend in the last month. He’s extremely nice, and he helped me get over my stutter. I only trip over a few words now. It’s great. And he’s adorable. We’re almost like siblings now. It’s fun to joke around. He makes being in the real world fun. And Peter isn’t so bad, either. Actually they’re both pretty cool. I can drop my guard with Kyle. I can relax with Peter. It’s fun to have friends again. Since Pete got drunk, we got closer.   
“No touching off the mat initiates!” I jump back and ball my fists in retaliation. Next thing next, Kyle has his back against the punching bag I was using. Eric has a fistful of his tank top, his arm is across Kyle’s collar. He looks pissed. Kyle’s one weakness is Eric. He’s terrified of Eric. Me, I’m not. Just confused.   
“Get off him, Coulter.” I order. I shove Eric’s arm off Kyle and get between them. Eric just glares at me. “You shove anyone it’ll be me. Didn’t you know? We’re dating. Since we’re over the age of consent, you can’t tell either of us no.” I growl at him. Play along, Kyle. Please play along. Eric face changes from anger to confusion. Then it’s anger again.   
“What’s going on here?” Four.   
If here were any guy that I would want to drunkenly kiss me, it would be him. He’s hot. He’s tall, he’s full of muscle, he has an amazing tattoo that peaks over his shoulder. He’s nice, too. He tries SO hard to hide it. Very hard. It’s the thing that he tries the hardest to hide. But he’s nice. He let Tris stand in front of targets the other day. I know he likes her. It’s on his sleeve. He’s nice, he’s hot, he’s SMART. From what I saw during our capture the flag game the other day. He’s perfectly…perfect. I wish I had a chance. I keep thinking about him. I hadn’t even THOUGHT of thinking about being with anyone until Eric kissed me. And now I’m….confused. And Four exists. I stare a lot. I bet.   
“Nothing- ”  
“Get out of here, number boy.” Eric growls. He glares down at Kyle behind me very intensely. What the hell did Kyle do? I look behind me at Kyle and nod. Get out of here. He shakes his head.   
“Pan, I want you to take Kyle and help him with his fighting skills. Now.” Four orders. I frown at Four, but know better than to say no to that. It’s a direct order. So I nod and take Kyle.   
“What the hell was that? Why did he attack me? I didn’t do anything. I-I don’t THINK I did anything. Did Pete mention another prank?” Kyle asks me. I shake my head. Pete is big on the prank side of things. He involves Kyle in them, too. But I don’t have interest in it. I just like to plan. And watch the end product.   
“No. But me and you are definitely keeping the gag up. We’re officially fake dating.” I put my arm around his shoulders. He laughs nervously.   
“Why?” He asks. His voice gets much higher when he’s nervous. I just laugh before getting him on the training mats for fighting. He needs work on his strategy anyways.   
“Because it’ll piss people off. And anything that makes Eric angry is something I want to be involved in. You in?” I ask him. He gets to the other side of the mat and smiles deviously. He always bounces back instantly. It’s like instant fear then back to Kyle the puppy.   
“Yes.” He answers. Good. I glare over at Eric, knowing full well there’s a smile on my face. He’s glaring at us. YES. This shall be amazing.   
“Alright. You need to work on your kicks….” 

“WAKEY WAKEY!” I flinch and shove my journal back in between the sheet and the mattress. Also, it’s under the pillow so no one can see the impression or whatever.   
I don’t go dear diary with it. No. It’s mandatory. It WAS when I was in Erudite. The doctors said I had to start writing things in journals. My thoughts and what not. Just to keep note of where I am in my head. I had to do it for three years, so I just never stopped. Habit of mine. But it’s not just thoughts, it’s THOUGHTS. Embarrassing or otherwise. So no one can read it. And no one has, so far. They don’t know about it because I always write in it super later at night when they’re all sleeping. Or sometimes when I’m just angry as hell. Like when I had to carry Eric back to his room. More like…..I dragged him.  
“In the gym! Two minutes!” Four yells.   
Why do they choose to wake us with stupid metal on metal banging? It’s weird. And really annoying. But it gets through the skull, I guess. Makes everyone wake up. And groan. Why are they here so early? Again, it doesn’t matter, just get out there. Do whatever the hell. It does and doesn’t matter. They’re torturing us enough. It’s murder getting up at six everyday and going on runs. But this? It’s ridiculous. But I pull on my black combat boots anyways and drag myself out of bed. I grab my coat off the floor and make it fourth out the door. I just want to be in bed. Badly.   
I get to the gym with a larger group of initiates and stand by a pillar. I need to not be falling asleep. It’s really early. Three o'clock early. Why? Why are we awake? Today sucks. It’s too early. It’s way too early. But were all lining up. Eric and Four are walking through the group of us. Watching, eyeing, stuff like that. It’s creepy. My hair stands on end when Eric passes by. I do my best to stay staring down at the floor, but he’s honestly making everything extremely uncomfortable. Why are you staring at me not someone else? What is your beef? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.   
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” I mumble tiredly as hell. I don’t even know if I’m saying it out loud. Then he takes a small step closer beside me. I have to stiffen up more so I don’t get more…anxiety. He gives me anxiety. a Lot of it.   
“I know you’re not being disrespectful to me. Not a leader that can effect your future.” He growls very quietly into my ear. I only get more angry at the thought of him threatening my future. I control my future. Not Eric Coulter. No way in hell.   
“Oh no. I don’t see where you got that idea. I’m so sorry if your hearing impediment made you think you mattered for a moment.” I spit right back at him. I hold his glare until he leaves. He kissed me. He’s a creep. He’s a complete creep. Or does he like me? No he’s just trying to be weird. He’s trying to hurt me. Why? We used to be friends. This is even worse. I don’t understand what’s happening.   
“Everyone follow us. Don’t fall behind!” Four orders. I break eye contact with Eric to follow Four. We’re leaving, apparently. Interesting….   
“What’s going on, do you think?” Kyle asks sleepily.   
We’re on the train. I don’t know WHY we’re on the train, but we’re on the train. Peter’s currently asleep leaning against the wall. Four and Eric just had a weird chat about Tris. I thought she got kicked out, but apparently she’s more ballsy than I am. Eric’s walking towards us. So’s Four. That’s good. It’s not JUST Eric. I look at Kyle and shrug. Do not ask me weird questions this early. It’s WAY too early for my insight. They’re carrying bags. When they drop them on the floor, I can only see a gun on the ground. But it looks like a pee shooter.   
“The game is simple. It’s like capture the flag.” Four begins. Capture the flag? I meet Kyle’s eyes and shrug. He does the same. But he looks considerably more excited than me. Eric picks up one of the dark red pee shooters and holds it up to show us all.   
“Weapon of choice.” He explains. Weapon? Okay, weird. Suddenly there’s a loud groan just across the car from us. A girl drops to the floor in agony. She’s got a dart in her leg. What? “Neuro stim dart. Simulates the pain of a real gunshot wound. Only lasts a couple minutes.” He continues, holding the small silver dart in the air. “Two teams. Four and I are captains.” Great.   
“You pick first." Four orders Eric. I back up a little. Don’t pick me. Don’t you dare.   
"Edward.” Eric barks. I let out an audible sigh. Thank you.   
“I’ll take the stiff.” The stiff meaning Tris. He’s trying too hard to hide the fact that he’s into her. WAY into her. It’s honestly a little funny to watch.   
“Picking the weak ones so you have someone to blame when you lose.” Eric taunts. Tris is anything but weak. She’s low in the ranks, but anyone could see she’d move forward. I just hope he doesn’t choose me. I hate being chosen. “Pan.” Frick.   
He’s going to make my life hell here. I can feel it. Which is honestly genuinely funny considering JUST how many times I saved him back home. I confidently step over to his side of the train. I’m careful not to make eye contact. He hasn’t brought up the other night, and neither will I. Just act like it didn’t happen. After I get picked I tune out. I don’t have to care. I’m too tired, anyways. I just get a gun and deal with it like that. I haven’t played this game since I was twelve in gym. I forget how to play. I’ll just go with it. See what happens.   
“Split into two teams. Alpha team with me. Chink, Green, Pan, Katie, Miles and Sandie. The rest of you on their flag. Get there fast, get there first. Win. Go.” Eric orders. We’re a ways away from anywhere. It’s really weird, and dark. But we’re in fairgrounds. I know that much. It’s really dark. But the sky is clear. I smile at a constellation I’ve always loved seeing. Aquila. “My team. Defense. Protect the flag.” He directs at us.   
The flag is orange. REALLY bright and kind of beautiful. It glows. Like it really glows. It’s amazing. I watch as the girl he’d shot in the leg, I don’t remember her name, takes the flag into a building with a tower on it. Not really a tower, but it’s..long and high. That’s where the flag is? Okay….I shake my head and laugh as I get into my position. This is funny. We’re going to fail. There aren’t enough of us and that’s a very very obvious. At least there’s real action going on. I just wish it wasn’t so early.   
“Something funny, Lamb?” I almost flinch. But Eric positioned himself almost ten feet away. Not that far off. I shrug.   
“We’re just going to lose.” I keep my voice low. Should try to stay quiet.   
“You don’t trust my plan?” He asks. I just nod. “What’s wrong with my plan?” He growls.   
“I’ll follow orders like a good initiate. You know the flaws, anyways. I have the capacity to listen.” I huff. I’d rather not get into an argument right now. Not with him. I’ll just listen to him tonight. It’s not worth a punishment.   
“There here!” Acton. We’re thrown directly into it. Just instantly. And I’m not prepared at all. I bring my gun up, sure, but I didn’t just flinch. I jumped. And there’s a thing next to me now. I recognize it as a flash bang, but I’m not positive. The deduction I make of the situation is split second.   
“DOWN!” I yell loud as I can. Suddenly I’m in the air. Not on my feet. Why am I in the air? Suddenly Eric is over me as the bang goes off. It’s all very dazing. My ears are ringing, and my head is pounding. So’s my heart. Hard enough to hurt my chest. Eric is above me for about a half second before he pulls me back up.   
“FIRE!” He orders. But the order is pointless. Everyone’s firering already.  
I put myself against a crate and start aimlessly firing. just aiming in the general direction of other people. he got on top of me. He shielded me? Focus. I shake my head clear and focus directly on Nathan’s leg. I get him and a couple of others before I get him in the chest. The action is ridiculous. The feeling of hitting someone so exhilarating, but heavy at the same time. it’s weirdly nice. Being in the action. A huge adrenaline rush, yes, but….calming. Damn near relaxing in the fact that I finally have a clear head. I don’t like shooting, but I like….action. I always have. Same with fighting. Nothing but a clear head.   
But as soon as the stim hits me? I can’t find anything other than pain. It’s on my right side. I know that. But the pain is in electrifying waves pulsing out. Into my head, into my heart. Making it impossible to breathe. It hurts really bad. First a sting, but then complete pain. Nothing BUT pain. IS this really what it feels like? I never ever want to get shot. Oh that hurts. That hurts a lot. Pain pain pain pain pain. I can’t do this. It’s too painful. You’ve been through worse. I hear a loud groan and then a thump next to me after that. I get my bearings enough to look over. Someone’s down. Help them. I blindly reach over to search for their dart since I can’t find mine. I toss the dart aside, then mine’s gone a moment later. Relief. Immediate relief. Thank you.   
“Stay. Here.” Eric orders.  
He lifts me up and places my back against a crate. He shakes my shoulders for emphasis. Yes, thank you, I was totally going to get up and just walk around. That’s the goal. My question is how the shit did he just get up from that? I don’t know where he got shot, but I know he shouldn’t just be getting up. That HURTS. But the pain gets easier every second I continue to breathe. Eventually it’s enough that I can get back up and start shooting again. Which I do. OR I try to. As soon as I get turned around I get a dart in my neck. THAT is blinding pain. Thank you, Peter. That hurts like a bitch. Everything goes black after a few seconds.

“Who got you in the neck?” I flinch awake.   
Where am I? Train. With half a dozen others. Why does the train seem so bright? My head is pounding still, too. My neck hurts, my chest hurts. Everything sort of hurts. I can’t wait for training to be over. Honestly. A lot of us will be feeling sore for awhile after that. Wow. Pain. Complete pain. Ouch. Oh, and no one else is awake. They all seem to be asleep pretty good. Guess that made us ALL tired. Looking around they’re all either in seat laid down, or sitting on the floor passed out. But like I said, there are only six. And my head is in Eric’s lap. Wait. MY HEAD IS IN ERIC’S LAP. Why? I sit up quickly and scoot away from him. Mistake number one: Looking afraid of him. Mistake two: moving quickly.   
“Who got you in the neck?” He asks again. He’s cleaning one of his knives. Whether it’s to look scary or because it actually needs it, I don’t know or care.   
“Why does that matter?” I barely hear my voice. It’s basically just a croak, but it…sort of exists. I bring my head down to meet my hands so I can rub circles into my temples. It’s never helped get rid of or even help headaches go away, but it’s a habit.   
“The game was over. Shooting was off when the flag got taken. You were shot after that. It’s against the rules.” He explains simply. I laugh. It hurts, but feels nice to laugh. Speaking of, where are Kyle and Peter? Probably out celebrating. They were on the winning team. “So who shot you?” he asks again with a little more emphasis. Let it go. It doesn’t matter.   
“Didn’t see them. I was too busy trying to breath, among other necessary human functions.” I won’t throw Pete under the bus. HE was probably getting me back for beating him on the mats so bad our first day here. I was expecting repercussions.   
“Nobility gets you nowhere here.” He growls, scooting in closer to me. I hold a strong face and keep my head in my hands. “It’s okay to be scared, Lamb. I’ll protect you.” He offers. I shrink away from his arm when he puts it around my back. What. The fuck. I shrug him away before getting up and moving.   
“I’m swooning, Coulter. Just do yourself a favour and stay the hell away from me. Did this place make you forget what I’m capable of?” I ask him. He stands up and gets closer to me again. I flinch when he reaches for my face. But he just runs his thumb along my jawline.   
“What you WERE capable of. You need to be stronger than this or Dauntless will swallow you whole. I can’t protect you all the time.” His voice has a softer tone, but only just. I frown at his chest before shaking my head.   
“I can handle myself.” I grab his arm, the one currently still holding my chin, and push it away. “I’m not weak, either. You used to know that.” I mutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is he protecting her? Why is he being such an asshole? The world may never know.....  
> Stay tuned


	8. FoBo

I spend the next three weeks avoiding him. And everyone else. Training is hard. Really hard. But fun. I don’t mind fighting, in fact I love it. I’m a little rusty after three years, but good. I only lose a couple times, ending up in the infirmary more than my fair share. I beat Peter so many times it’s ridiculous. He’s really easy to beat. Predictable. I stole Tris’s move and hit him in the throat to get to him. After that it was a simple take down. We all bullshit together, me Peter and Kyle, joking around. Peter sticks to being a dick to everyone but me and Kyle, but anymore I’m just used to it. It keeps them away from us.   
I had to drop in the rankings. There were a few people, three I think, that tried to throw me over the chasm. After Edward got stabbed, everyone went a little crazy. People attacking other people, trying to threaten or kill them. Since there’s the very prominent threat of becoming factionless. Peter’s first in the class now because of it. I’m all the way back at thirteen. I’m fine with it, honestly. It’s the direct middle of the class. No one wants to fight me for my rank. Eags, Silvia, and another one I never learned the name of because I didn’t want to, tried to kill me for my rank. I’m fine with it.People need to survive. Four….saved me. I guess. I was going to die, there were three of them, and I was honestly just a little hungover. And concussed. Four came by and took care of them. Thankfully he agreed to not tell anyone else. I just wanted it to stay quiet. No one needed to know.   
Four is cool. He’s honestly really nice. Tris was attacked which really pissed him off. But other than that, everything is just fine with everything. He’s really cool. He makes it seem like he’s bad ass and unapproachable, but that’s just bull. IT’s a facade. No one else seems to understand that he’s nice. He yelled at me a couple of times to get off my ass. Every time it was because Eric had not only caused a panic attack with just…existing and pushing me over the edge of training, but lack of sleep. I’m exhausted. But Four is nice enough to understand we’re exhausted. And he’s hot. I stare at him more than I should. He’s perfectly tan, has amazing tattoos, and he’s probably going to be my boss later on in life.   
“Pan!” My heart wants to stop.   
This is the fear simulations. We have two weeks to train to get through them before the final test. And the final test will be in Erudite for some reason this year. Peter is next to me. He goes after. Kyle gets to test with Four, the lucky prick. I hate him for it. I want to request a transfer, just so I don’t have to deal with Eric taunting me about my fears. Or using them against me. My fingers are ice cubes by now and I know it. I glare at him when I walk in. But for once he doesn’t return it with any more than a concerned ish frown.   
“Have a seat.” He closes the door to the small white room while directing me to the chair. It’s like a dentist chair. But better and way let frightening. “This is a simulation. You’ll be given this to drink.” He holds out a small shot glass full of blue liquid. Great. What does that do?   
“What does it do?” I ask when I take it. He sets to grabbing wires. “Woah hey- ”   
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He states firmly. I meet his eye for a moment. They’re really really blue. “That puts you to sleep and starts the simulation. You’re going to see your worst fears. There are usually between eleven and fifteen. Your goal is to get through them how Dauntless would.” He explains as he attaches the sensory wires to my head. Okay. That sounds simple enough. Only my worst fears are awful. But I assume most people’s would be.   
“Is it dangerous? Can these hurt me physically?” I blurt. Shouldn’t be afraid of that. I’m not. It’s just a question. That would just add more of a risk factor. Be funner.   
“You afraid?” He challenges. But not sarcastically like always. Just a question.   
“No. Curious is all. Is it bad?” I ask.   
“Just drink. I’ll talk to you about it when you wake up.” He pushes the glass towards me more. Again, his hand is really warm. I just nod before I down the drink. “Relax. You’re going to be fine…….” Darkness. 

Where am I? This looks like Amity. This looks like home. It is. It’s very grassy and green. Open. I love it here. I don’t miss it any. It’s beautiful. But there’s always something wrong. Marcus, my stringy skinny little blonde best friend, is being help upright a ways away. Fifty feet maybe. I am not a good judge of distance. But I remember this. This happened when I was fifteen. Just before he left for Dauntless. The group of three, the same three guys that always attacked him. They’re holding him again. They have the knife again.   
“Marcus!” I yell. No. They aren’t going to kill him. I was too late once already. Run. Save him. Don’t let them hurt him. IF they hurt him, he’ll leave again. They always do. I run over as fast as I can manage. Which for me is very fast. The ground seems o try to slow me down, to make it harder to get to him. But they’re not going to hurt him again. No. “AH!” I scream at them. Distraction. Get them to look at you and not them. Never them. Don’t let them hurt him. I can see the knife being raised. And I’m good enough to tackle the one with the knife to the ground. Lucky me.   
“Bitch!” He yells. Good. But as soon as he’s on the ground, he’s gone. Just vanishes like that. Which is honestly really weird. I don’t like that. That’s really weird. I frown, but push of the ground so I’m back on my feet again. At least they’re gone.   
“Are you okay, Mar?” Wait, where’d he go? I look around for Marcus. He’s gone, too. But where and why? “Mar!” I yell. Wait, I think that’s him by the trees. Oh yeah, he probably just wants to hang out at our tree. It’s where we used to always hang out to get away from the rest of the world. “Mar wait up!” I yell after him. Come on, Mar. What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you waiting?   
And then it begins. The whole forest goes up. Orange crazy flames dancing up through the trees, threatening to come for me. Oh great. I hate fire. THAT makes pure fear shoot through me. I hate fire. I don’t do fire. Fire killed my father. Don’t think about that. Just get through this. No. I can’t. I can’t get through it. I back away from the heat. No. I won’t let this happen. But Marcus was in there. HE left. He left for the flames. He’d rather burn than be around you. Go ahead, go in there. You might as well be dead, right? Goo as dead, good as dead. My head is singing at me. The voice that I haven’t heard in over a year is taunting me. It’s only making my fear worse.   
I close my eyes when the screaming starts. Those screams were….no. I cover my ears and will it all to go away. Go away go away. Leave me alone. Leave me alone, I haven’t done anything. I can’t go back there. Not there. It’s too much. Marcus is gone, so’s everyone else. Are those HIS screams in there? Is he burning now, too? Is this my fault? I should have gotten to him sooner so he didn’t turn into that thing. So he didn’t get hurt any worse. I should never have been so slow. He was all alone and now he’s burning just like my father. Suddenly all the heat and screams are gone.   
I open my eyes and find myself in a dark hallway. No, it’s a tunnel. In Dauntless. I feel at peace here. Quiet, and cool. No people around. I begin walking around. Maybe if I find where I am I can get back to he North wall. To my window. The next corner I round holds another surprise. Someone grabs my arm and throws me against the tunnel’s wall. There’s almost no no light, so I can’t see the face. Big hands wrap around my throat. I close my eyes and force myself to think. Big hands, clumsy. Guy. Ease the panic. That was three years ago. He can’t hurt you here. He’s dead. He can’t hurt me. I can hurt him, though.   
I open my eyes and bring my knee up, getting him in the most sensitive part of his body. He lets my throat go just as I feel myself getting faint. I take the opportunity for air, and lean back against the wall, coughing. Don’t stop, you have to run. I turn and begin to run away from him. He can’t hurt me here. I’m safe. It’s not real. He’s not real. He’s dead. He can’t touch you in Dauntless. Get to people. If the Pit is close, or I can just get one of the apartment doors to open, I’ll be relatively safe. He’s big, really big. I could fight him off, right? But should I? I feel as if getting to people would be smarter than fighting blind. But my goal is cut off when I’m tackled to the ground. Whoever they are, they flip me over so I’m facing them.   
“Eric?” I manage to choke out.   
Those are his arm tattoos. And neck. He can’t be here. Not in my fearscape. He smiles wickedly before punching me in the face. I feel all the pain of it radiating through my skull. I turn my face with the hit, looking for a way to get away from him. How do I get out of this? He’s sitting on my hands. I need to get out of here. Get him off me. I struggle, trying to kick at him, or get my hands loose. But he’s way too heavy. I feel his heavy and all too familiar lips press against mine hard enough to draw blood. I shake my head, and bite him hard. He grunts, pulling back before punching me again.   
“Little Lamb.” He said, animalisticaly. I lose all sense of reality after that. I can’t breathe anymore. He’s crushing my lungs. He’s too heavy. He’s going to do whatever he wants now and I can’t fight him off. I’m too small. He’s too big. All he wants to do is hurt me. Torture me. I can’t slow my heart rate down this time. He leans down and licks my beck before biting down hard. I let out a small scream. No. Please no. Don’t do this. Don’t do that.   
“Stop!” I scream when he gets down to my collar. He’s going to rape me? He sits up. The panic rises to an uncontrollable level. Too much too close. Stop stop stop. Get him off. Let me out of this sim, I can’t do this. Not with him. I’m pinned, I don’t understand.   
“You know you’re mine. You always have been.” He punches me again, right against the temple. Pain shot through my head, and everything goes black.

 

“Calm down. You’re safe.” I shoot up in my chair and scream. What was that? Why did that happen? Where am I? It’s bright again. And there are arms around me. Get them away! Don’t touch me! I’m not yours I’m not anyone’s! “Charlie, stop!” Eric’s voice orders. No! I won’t stop. “It wasn’t real. It was a simulation!” Calm down. You need to breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let anyone see you like this. You are safe. You do not need help. Get away from him. He can’t see you scared. No one can. It’s weak. I’ll save the attack for later. Not now. Not where anyone, especially Eric, can see it. I get to where I’m not fighting him. But I really SHOULD get out of here.   
“Can I go now?” I ask shakily. I stare at my feet in front of me. He still has my arms pinned down at my sides. I’m not going to kill you, Eric, I just want to not look weak in front of anyone.   
“I need to discuss your fears with you. Are you calm?” He asks. Talk to me about my fears? What? Like a shrink or something? I don’t need to talk about them, I already know what they are. Back off. I don’t need your expertise. I just nod my head at him. I’m getting out. “Good. I’m letting you go.” Which is what he does. I scoot back on the chair and bring my legs to my chest. None of it was real.   
“I don’t need to talk about them. I know what they are.” I snap.   
“You don’t know how to deal with them. The simulation is supposed- ”   
“To test me on dealing with my fears. Conquer them. I know. I’m not stupid, in case you don’t remember. I saved Marcus. Afraid of abandonment means to learn to survive on my own. Check. Fire? Learn some way to put it out or get through it. Screams. Deal with hearing them. You….” I shake y head. “Being assaulted. Fight back, which I did. I know what to do. I don’t need your help. I’m leaving.” I I’m not afraid of Eric Coulter. I get off the chair quickly and stalk towards the door. The last thing I need is him thinking I’m afraid of him.   
“Woah hey.” I lean against the wall when my vision gets blurry. Woah what is going on? “The serum effects people differently. You should take it easy-”   
“Don’t touch me.” I shove him off and glare at him. All I can see is him being a creep and kissing me. Drunkenly kissing me. And I’m still confused about it. Whether or not I want it. Or him. I don’t want him. He’s a jerk. But why did he kiss me? It doesn’t matter. “I’m leaving now.” I mumble. I slam the door closed behind me. Which gathers the eyes of everyone left in the room. But at the same time, they don’t know what it’s about. They just think I’m angry about my fears. Which is also true. I don’t know what to do. I should just get out of here. Practice after hours again. I still need to practice my throwing.   
“Hey, Pan. How’d it go? You look pissed.” Kyle asks. Why is he waiting outside? It’s raining, that’s why. He’s like me, he loves the rain. It’s our favorite kind of weather. I’m actually a rain whore. I love the rain. The term was made up by Kyle, who is ALSO a rain whore.   
“I’m just….yeah. Let’s…” I can’t even think of anything to do. I just know I can’t stop thinking about Eric. He was almost comforting in there. But I hate him. A lot. He’s messed up and irritating, and the ghost of my best friend. And I’m afraid of him, I guess. Which is weird. I’ve never been afraid of anyone but….and he’s dead now so I can’t be afraid. I’m not. So what the hell am I doing thinking about him all the time? I don’t like him. He’s an asshole.   
“We should get something to eat. It’s almost lunch. We both need it, judging by how pale you are. We can eat out here, too.” He’s practically skipping. I tilt my head back and nod.

**Author's Note:**

> Her name is pronounced Pan-EE-AY-Khos. It's Greek. And yes, it has deep meaning to her. Talk about meak,right? Don't worry, it'll get better. Promise. Postings will be once a week. This is a super short chapter. They get longer.


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